


Paths

by CanadianSummer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Death, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hunting, Injury, Isolation, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Possible Smut?, The gang's still a mess tho, Widowed, no TB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-27 12:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianSummer/pseuds/CanadianSummer
Summary: Isolation, guilt, and want is a terrible mix and Charlotte knows it all too well. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, yet there were moments where she didn't mind the developments that came about after her husband's death and it made it hurt all the more.OR: semi-interconnected one-shots of interactions/moments between Arthur Morgan and Charlotte Balfour and a growing romance.





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like this pairing and never see enough for them. So, I started a sort of project that I'll update at my own whim. lol 
> 
> These are mostly stand-alone and not always chronological, but there is an element of slow-burn to it. Also no TB but the gang's still falling apart, so there's that and the aftermath of it. Might mess with events and expand the time these two have together. 
> 
> Also, rating may change.
> 
> Anyway, this is un-beta'd so it's been proof read by me but there may be mistakes. Feedback is welcomed as always!

Charlotte had twisted her ankle as a young girl.

A poorly placed rock in a garden and distracted footing was all she could blame that on. The pain and the _'pop'_ always stuck out in her mind, the green of the grass under her and the tree above the only other bit of that memory she could remember that wasn't tied to how much it hurt. She had always liked laying on her back in a grassy area as a child, though she had found herself doing it less and less as the years went on. She'd been lucky that she had the luxury to keep off her injury at the time, that she had grown to be able to walk on it with little problems in the future. Another story of childhood that sat, fading around the edges, as time moved on and newer memories replaced and confused her understanding of events. Memories of that life felt like they almost didn't belong to her, in all honesty.

She knew her family would pale at the sight of her now, and they had certainly said their piece when her and Cal had stated their intentions of moving out into the wilderness. It had been his idea, but she had always been fond of humoring him, as she usually found herself enjoying his plans. This, though? It had really been one of his more questionable ones. He'd always been a dreamer, though she had been one too—perhaps she still was. Really, none of them had been prepared and she knew she should have known better than to believe this romanticized version of this life Cal had sold her on.

She didn't blame him for dying— _never_ could or would, but that was never part of his plan. Not like this.

Charlotte had no plans of dying in such a way, either, if she could help it—yet, well, she hadn't been prepared. She was better than she had been right after his death, though that hadn't come without a helping hand. A man out of the woods as if something had led him to her, grieving and starving over Cal's grave. That intervention and teaching had put an amount of hope in her that she couldn't quite understand still, but the rabbit and the company...it was certainly something.

Yet, perhaps, she had let it get the better of her. She should have stuck to rabbit but the deer she saw, well, it was quite a bit of meat. It would have saved her from going out so soon to hunt again—if she _had_ caught it. Instead she had her leg twisted around a broken log, a sharp pain digging right up under her knee and something _far_ worse than a spooked deer staring back at her. Charlotte barely had time to twist herself around so she had the room to grab her weapon, the animal already eyeing her from where she could see it crouched in the wilderness. A cat. A large one. This wasn't a dirty tabby she saw sometimes in the alleyways of her old home—not even close.

For a moment, she could almost hear the familiar yelling—she almost didn't recognize it as Cal's at first, and his body even less so. She could almost feel the blood on her again. Though, her body seemed to move on its own accord as the cougar moved, pulling her back almost immediately as she fired off two shots. One hit its body, the other the head—still alive, but spooked. She expected to be jumped—torn apart without anybody to run up to find her in time. Yet, it took off, turning and running back into the woods. She wasn't convinced it was gone as Charlotte's hands shook as she held the gun in her arms. Seconds seem to drag by, her eyes taking in any movement in front of her but not behind.

She could see the area, see Cal's body—she felt extremely focused in the moment and almost distant from it at the same time. Nothing but the ringing in her ears and her heavy breathing—until the world seemed to snap right back into focus. The sound of the woods around her, the birds, and the cracking of sticks behind her.

Her leg protested in pain as she turned sharply, weapon aimed toward whatever was approaching from behind. She knew it was on two legs and for a moment all she saw was that bear—huge, and looming, before the sound of her name broke through the moment. It wasn't a yell, it was said firmly—the voice was familiar, the man and his face registering as she exhaled heavily, lowering her weapon with a shaky sigh.

“I...I'm sorry, I thought you were that animal...” she admitted, finding her voice as she turned her head to glance in front of her again.

“What happened here? You hurt?”

It had been a couple days to a week since she'd last seen him—probably the only company she found out here, outside of some rather...unpleasant visitors, both human and animal. His voice was exactly the same as it was when she'd last heard it, but it sounded different in her ears in the moment. She was having a hard time figuring out what just happened.

“I...fell. I was looking for a deer, it saw me and I...rather foolishly felt the need to chase it. It appeared I wasn't the only one, there...there was a cat.”

“A _cat?_ A cougar?”

“I assume so. I shot it and it ran...I think. I hurt it.” There was some _guilt_ there, despite everything.

She exhaled softly, the reality of the situation seeming to weigh on her somewhat. For a few moments...well, maybe she thought she was going to die? Surely if she hadn't had better aim...well, she hadn't killed the cougar, but it saved her life all the same. Still, Charlotte tried not to flinch too much when Arthur moved, seeming to survey the area for the animal in question as he let out a low sound in his chest before a soft huff.

“Been chased by cougars before,” he commented, “you'd know if it were still lookin' for ya by now.”

Charlotte nodded her head softly, glancing down at herself as she still sat on the ground, letting some strands of dark hair fall over the side of her face as she took that information in. She was safe, and unharmed. For now, at least. _Oh, that was a negative thought, wasn't it?_ Gingerly, she shifted, lifting her leg slightly before she tried to gather herself back up to a stand. Brush the dirt off herself and put the whole thing behind her—yet, that same pain from before ripped through her leg, right under the knee. Against her will, she let out a whimper before falling back onto the ground with a huff—quiet, embarrassment and a twinge of frustration sitting in her chest.

She'd already had a day and not much had really happened. Still, she found it in herself to let out a soft laugh, glancing back up toward the man beside her.

“It appears that my leg doesn't want to work...” she commented, “I...I don't think I broke anything, but something hurts.”

“C'mon,” Arthur muttered, lingering a moment before he helped her pull her arm across a shoulder, “Lean on me a bit...”

With some minor struggle, Charlotte managed to rise to a stand as Arthur kept her arm around his shoulders, the other on her side as she willed her breathing to even out as the throbbing pain subsided a bit. Embarrassment burned hot for a few moments, specifically in her face, as she slowly started to hop at Arthur's coaxing. Quite the huntress she was turning out to be—though, again, it seemed their paths continued to cross in the most unexpected of ways. It wasn't that she would have died if he didn't show up, but...well, she was sure it would have taken twice as long to get back to her home. Eventually, as the scenery started to become familiar, the path more worn, she was able to put some pressure on her leg to more of a hobble than a slow hop.

“I'm surprised it wasn't my ankle again,” she commented, slightly out of breath as Arthur turned his head slightly, Charlotte gripping at his shoulder as they slowly made their way up the slight incline outside her home, “I hurt it when I was younger. It felt weak for a long while, I feared that it would just buckle again but...well, it's been a few years now. Same leg, though.”

“I seen my share of injuries,” he commented, “Got off easy, considerin' your company.”

“Right...” she muttered, some distance entering her voice despite herself as she shook her head lightly, “Thank you. _Again._ It seems you happen to come across me in...less than favorable conditions.”

“It's some wild country out here,” Arthur returned easily—it almost made her feel like she was the only one embarrassed by the whole ordeal, “...Don't mind lendin' the hand sometimes.”

“Or the shoulder,” she returned with a light laugh—it eased some of the tension in her chest.

“Sure.” There was a touch of humor to his voice, it made a small grin pull lightly at the sides of her mouth.

Entering her home and setting herself down onto a chair at the table was much more relieving than she had been expecting. Charlotte could remember the first time she had entered the home, Cal had been much more taken by the state of it than she was at first, but...well, it was _home_ now. She could relax. She felt safe inside it, much as there could be more done to make it even more so. Cal had bought the gun as a first step, yet she supposed it was just on her now. Still, she doubted there was much that could be done with her leg in its current state anyway. She let out a soft sigh through her nose, smiling softly to herself.

“I wanted to get something other than rabbit—I'm not picky about what I eat, yet...well, I guess it'll be rabbit for a while still.”

Arthur chuckled lightly, something a touch awkward to it, as she glanced up to look at his face as he seemed to dig around in the satchel at his side.

“Actually came out here to give you these,” he said, “Thought it would be good to have somethin' heavier than rabbit.”

The chuckle she let out was more genuinely amused, Charlotte watching as he removed some wrapped meat. A mixture of emotion stirred in her gut as things settled—exhaustion from the day, a sense of grief at remembering the last time she saw Cal, the ebbing fear of that cougar, and fondness for her current company. It was hard to tell how she should act at any given moment, but she decided offering him a grateful grin would suffice enough.

“I appreciate you thinking of me,” she muttered, not catching the look that settled over his expression momentarily at her words as she gripped at her injured knee and extended it gently. It had loosened up some from the walk, but she could feel the painful pull of the muscle there that had likely been twisted in a bad way when she had tripped. “Well, I'd offer to cook it for you in thanks but I don't think I'll be able to stand for too long tonight.”

Arthur nodded, a moment passing as he seemed to debate on his next move. Really, she wouldn't blame him if he just gave his leave and let her be for the night—the food was more than she could have asked for, and very much welcomed, much as she still wasn't going to starve. She didn't want to think too much into it, but it was touching that he would think enough to ride out here to give her some cuts of meat. Hunted himself or bought, she wasn't sure, but it didn't matter in the end.

“Well, ya got a fire don't you?” he asked, “I cooked over them all my life.”

“You really don't have to,” Charlotte started, “I still have some dried meat from the rabbits, just...have to hop over to get it myself.”

“Not much of a meal,” he commented, his point made. She had noticed fairly quickly that she didn't really prefer eating it later in the day.

Her gaze lifted back up to Arthur, regarding him a moment as she seemed to walk into accepting what he was offering. She'd cooked for him already, in a way, much as she hadn't been expecting him to show up then either.

“Alright...” she replied with a small nod, “Though, it's only fair you stay to eat what you cook.”

“Sure.”

An easy silence fell over her as Arthur set about cooking the meat he had brought—it was natural, but not normal for Charlotte. She had always been...somewhat chatty, as she'd been told a number of times. There was always a way to fill a silence and she often found herself doing so, much to the irritation of some people...yet, it was always by people who didn't really _matter_ to her in the long run. Her parents had distanced after her marriage, Cal enjoyed the conversations just as much as she did, yet...well, things had fallen quiet after he was gone. She couldn't say she was thinking of him less, but she usually found a way these days not to dwell on thoughts of him like she currently was. Happier times she remembered with some coaxing from her mind, yet this time...well, all she could see was the blood and the carnage.

It had to have been the encounter a while ago, that's all there was to it. She had gotten quick memories of his body, the bear that killed him—the images lingered in the back of her mind, even once she knew she was safe. Perhaps it was the fact that the task of the evening wasn't on her shoulders for once, something that didn't happen often anymore, and it left room for things like those memories to sit with her.

“I...” she started, a little surprised by the sound of her own voice, “I think I'm still a little shaken by the cougar.”

Arthur had shifted to glance back at her when she spoke, still cooking the meat over the fire. Charlotte didn't miss the awkward catch in her voice as she lowered her head to glance at the wood of the table she was sat over.

“It took a moment for me to...well, do what I did, but...I think I told you Cal died by a bear?” she glanced back up at him slightly at the question, “I was right back in that moment for a couple seconds once I realized what I was looking at. It was over so quickly for him, and he wasn't more or less armed than I was. I...I'm sorry, I don't mean to get into this.”

“I've only ran into a couple bears myself,” Arthur admitted, “They ain't cougars—not less dangerous but...it's different.” 

Charlotte hummed something low and quiet, recognition but not quite acceptance.

“It's odd...I've dealt with a number of people coming up here and it's the cougar that's shaken me into memories like that.”

“People?” Arthur had been keeping one eye on what he was cooking as he spoke, but she noticed she had the majority of his attention now as the question fell from him.

Some focus touched Charlotte's gaze at the sudden attention being made to that one part of her admission. She blinked a couple times, her brow furrowing as she shrugged.

“The odd passer-by,” she replied, her gaze shifting toward the door and the slowly dying light of the day that still filtered in through it, “Most just realize that the path ends here and turn before I need to tell them to, but some...well...there was a man. I don't usually mind the company, but this is supposed to be secluded. He wouldn't leave, kept asking me questions about being alone out here, who...who was buried outside...just had this terrible look in his eye. I had to threaten him to get him to leave, gave me this look as he did so and...well, that stayed with me for a while.”

Her gaze shifted from the door, some memories of that lingering but Charlotte was quick to shake those off before they could mix terribly with the more persistent ones she had been dealing with that evening. When she glanced back toward Arthur, he had turned away somewhat but had a touch of some emotion to his expression, brow tight.

“Is something wrong?” Charlotte asked, tilting her head, “I haven't seen him since, if you're...”

“I..uh, I think I seen that feller,” he said after a moment, glancing toward her, “Least...what he said, thought...well, thought it sounded like he was talkin' 'bout you. Part of me thought I was bein' irrational but it weren't anythin' nice.”

There was a growing tightness to her throat, Charlotte's expression passing into something more like confused anxiety. Arthur took a glance toward her at the silence, feeling his eyes on the side of her face. It wasn't completely impossible that he had ran into that man, nor the idea that he existed outside of that one horrible moment, but...it put her on edge somewhat, admittedly. She'd almost forgotten about him, that was foolish.

“Don't think he's gonna be comin' this way any time soon,” Arthur continued, a point to his words that had Charlotte glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, “If he ain't come out again already. Must've been a while.”

“I suppose so...” she muttered, shifting as she sighed, “If that is indeed the same man. I...don't like to think on it too much. I doubt I would be able to sleep at night if I keep him in my mind.”

“You feel safe here?”

“Not always, admittedly. There isn't much to these walls and...well, as you said, it's some wild country out here. All the more reason to keep learning how to use Cal's gun, I feel safer doing that and even more so with what help you've given.”

Arthur gave her a short nod, not really replying to the last bit as he seemed to turn his attention back to finishing what he was cooking. It had slipped out, admittedly, but it didn't make it any less true. She was grateful for his assistance, as much as he was willing to give. He was welcome company, too. Charlotte knew she was isolated, now more than ever, but she really didn't mind having him in her home for the time he'd allow. Seemed a little awkward sometimes, but she figured maybe that's just how he was. A bit of a mystery, too. She didn't know much about him, he didn't talk about himself all too often and most of the time it wasn't anything beyond was was relevant to the task.

Meanwhile, she had been giving him a list of events that had happened since she had been staying in the area. Charlotte let out a small, amused huff at the thought but let the silence linger. She really was tired in more ways than one. By the time dinner had been cooked and served, the house had fallen into a darkness outside of the few lamps and the fireplace. She was used to it, but admittedly it was a little strange to have someone in there with her after so long. It had just been her for a while now.

Some conversation had passed easily enough. Arthur wasn't a terrible cook, much as the meat was a little plain. Then again, she was used to just throwing everything into a stew at this point. Still, it was welcomed after the day she had and it helped ease her some.

“How's the leg?”

His question pulled her from looking over her plate, Charlotte raising her eyebrows some before she chuckled softly.

“It hurts, but I assume it will for a while. There's not much damage done, though I wish I could say the same for my pride after everything today.”

“I'll bring you some deer to make up for it,” Arthur offered up in some humor, a smile settling into her expression at the look in his eye. Would there be another time? Well, he never really said goodbye in the sense that she'd never see him again before, but...well, she never really expected him to come back. She was always happy when he did, but...she wasn't going to think into it too much.

“Maybe cougar,” she covered quickly before pulling a bit of a face, “Is that cruel? It feels a little cruel.”

“Don't think that cougar would think the same 'bout you.”

“That's true...” she shifted, sucking in a breath as she glanced toward one of the windows.

Night had fallen, and of course a rather heavy rain had settled as it always does. It was beautiful, how green the land was, but it was awfully dreary sometimes. The thought of him riding out into that entered her mind after a moment, her gaze moving back to his face as she bit the inside of her lip. It felt...well, strange. She felt guilty for feeling safe in his presence and that the idea of him leaving after everything that happened that day left her feeling a little anxious—and not all for him, as selfish as she felt for that. She missed Cal. Every day. Hourly on some days. Yet, she was so isolated. She had known it would be, but she hadn't imagined it would be her, alone. She wondered if it was wrong to ask him to stay, and yet—

“Quite the rain outside, I almost didn't hear it,” she commented, Arthur turning in his chair somewhat to glance toward the window as he grunted in agreement. No thunder or lightning, just wet darkness.

“Are you wanting to ride in that?” she asked. Her gut twisted slightly.

Arthur glanced back her way, his eyebrows raised slightly before what she was really asking seemed to settle into his expression. As she expected, he shook his head as he held his hands up slightly.

“Can't say I _want_ to, but I been in your home long 'nough for tonight. You really don't—“

“It's just a guest bed,” Charlotte offered up, a part of her sighing defeated at the words, “Until the rain stops. I would feel better not having to send you out in that. Could catch your death.”

“I...” he sighed softly, seeming to think it over, “I slept _in_ rain before, it ain't a big deal.”

“I just thought it would be polite to offer, I'm not forcing you to say if you don't want to, Arthur,” she replied, her tone easy as much as she felt like scolding herself.

“I appreciate it,” Arthur said, a bit of relief slipping into her at the sincerity to his tone, “I'll be fine.”

“Alright...” she said with a soft nod, letting out a soft chuckle, “I'd rise to see you off but...still, thank you for dinner. That was awfully kind of you.”

“Glad it helped,” he stated with a nod, gathering his hat from the table as he stood, “I, uh...I'm sorry 'bout the leg and the scare.”

“It wasn't your fault. You did more than enough today.” _Why did it feel like that wasn't what he wanted to say?_

Still, she offered him another smile as he nodded his head, giving her a goodbye as he pushed the door open. She could hear the rain hitting the ground as he stepped out, Charlotte letting out a sigh as the door was shut behind him as she tapped a knuckle against the wood of the table. Lord, did she feel guilty—reason was telling her that it was fine, it wasn't like she had asked him to share a bed _with_ her, yet...

She'd used the rain to hide the fact that she felt _safer_ with him around. Not that she wanted to feel like she needed protection, it would defeat what she was trying to do out there, and Arthur's help was more about giving her the means to protect herself instead of using him as protection. It was meaningful in that way, and maybe...well, it was a conflicting thought.

With the silence pulling into just the sound of the rain hitting the roof and Charlotte sitting at a table with two empty plates, she knew that she was lonely out there by herself. There was also the talk of that man, and the way Arthur talked about him not coming around anymore like...well, like he'd done more than warn him.

She needed to sleep.


	2. 2

Saint Denis was a strange city.

It was familiar—she was starting to wonder if all cities felt the same after a while, yet at the same time it all had become rather unfamiliar. The crowded and dusty streets were far from the wilderness she had come to call home, Saint Denis was even still far from what Annesburg was. It was more of a mine than anything, a place for the workers and their families. Charlotte had only visited that town a couple times when she needed supplies that couldn't be gathered or hunted herself, not that she had a the skill to see if she could find alternatives or make things herself out there just yet. Being completely self-sufficient was a nice dream but she was still uncertain if it was a _reasonable_ one.

Perhaps all of this should have felt like home to her, it had a similar air to where she had grown up, and yet she felt uncomfortable. It was only for a night, that had been a comforting echo in her head as she had agreed to come down all this way. Her cousin was preforming, yet another soul from her family who had broken away from what was expected and pursued something unexpected. She hadn't run off into the wilderness like Charlotte had, but traveling around and playing piano in a group of people wasn't exactly something they were thrilled about. That had gone quiet once her group's name started appearing on posters, but that had yet to happen for Charlotte and she doubted it ever would.

She honestly didn't have much interest in keeping up with her family, not after the stiff and almost business-like letter she had gotten from her parents about denouncing her choices—in husband, in lifestyle. Oh, they would take her back, but she'd have to beg. It wasn't stated so simply in that letter, but Charlotte had caught the implication of it. It had been a painful process, especially with the doubt that had come about once they had arrived at her current home, but Cal had made her promise not to beg them for _anything._ She was above that and better. Charlotte found herself wishing for the life of her that she could hear that again in the moment.

Instead, she was greeted by the sounds of the streets, the horses, and bits of chatter that surrounded her. Night had fallen, leaving the streets to be lit by lamps and light filtering out from various buildings, outside of the blinding splendor of the theater she had recently left. She...honestly had been expecting a little more, admittedly. Not in the show, it was as great as she had hoped it would be, but from her cousin. They'd grown up together, close-knit and almost sibling-like. There was a bit of an age difference, but that didn't really matter much in the end. Charlotte guessed she took some inspiration from her when she had agreed to do all of this with her husband, yet...things were different now. She had been expecting time to sit, maybe a meal. She figured that she was lucky to even see her, her attire much more extravagant and flashy than Charlotte's. She was very excited to see her however, throwing public eye to the wind and throwing her arms around her as soon as that recognition settled over her painted features. She wasn't the star of their little show, but she dressed as such and Charlotte's eyes had mostly been on her from the audience.

Yet, that was as far as it went. Many thanks for coming, a serious and solemn nod as she made an attempt to acknowledge what had happened to Cal, and her address and a promise to write mixed in with her goodbye. Then it was just her and the night that was ending far too early for her to feel satisfied returning to the room she had rented for the night. Frustration and a fair amount of hurt settled in a few moments after she had stepped out into the street, taking a breath and releasing it in a deep exhale. It...was a wonderful show, at least. The walk back to the Bastille was pretty, too, much as she didn't much enjoy the solitude and the disappointment her evening left her with. That what was left of her family now, treated her no more than another fan she guessed. Another gain off a ticket sold, much as her cousin had half said price removed for her at the desk. The thought left a hot pit in her stomach, sitting close to anger.

She really wanted to go home.

The familiar saloon came into view, that pit in her stomach only sitting heavier. More sights and noises passed, almost clutter among the circles her mind was running. She wasn't tired physically, but mentally she was exhausted. A couple people exited the saloon doors, the faint tinkle of a piano heard from inside as if to rub salt into the wound. Yet, her focus caught as a familiar face settled in her mind, a small, mildly amused, exhale escaping her. Fate had such a strange way of putting a turn to events. Arthur was dressed a little more...expensive than normal, she guessed. Cleaner, too. She almost didn't recognize him without a heavy jacket and travel sitting in his body language—if anything, he appeared irritated as he pulled a cigarette from his satchel. The flame from the match illuminated his face a moment in the darkness of the balcony overhead, orange and striking that had her stomach hurting a moment as embarrassment washed over her as she realized she was staring. Though, it appeared she didn't get much opportunity to decide if it was enough to turn her away as his gaze lifted to the street, passing her once before catching a moment as his head inclined in surprise.

The small huff and upward tilt to his lips put some ease in her as she crossed the street, albeit a little sheepishly.

“Miss Balfour,” he greeted as she huffed a small chuckle.

“Charlotte.”

“ _Charlotte_ ,” he corrected, dropping his hand with the cigarette to his side, “Almost didn't recognize you. You're...far from home.”

“Quite, I...” she paused, not too sure if she wanted to go over the events of the evening with how bitter she felt about it all, “I'm safe to assume with you looking as awkward as I feel that you are too?”

She was rewarded with a bitter chuckle as Arthur glanced down toward his boots—quite the pair they made, Charlotte dressed for theater and Arthur in a jacket she swore she had seen before around the city but not on him. They both looked like they were suffocating.

“In a way,” he replied, lifting his head to meet her gaze, “Guess I wanted to try my luck at the table in there but it ain't on my side today, it seems...”

“I never took you for a gambler,” she observed, her tone more curious than judgmental.

She had never gambled a day in her life, and Cal wasn't one for it. With how money had become with them, they couldn't risk losing it on games but...well, it was interesting all the same. Thinking about it, he did seem the type. Perhaps that was a little judgmental, though she really just had assumptions to go off of with him. It was strange to see him in a place that wasn't her home, just animals and wilderness around them. The idea of him in the streets of a city like this, it was odd but she guessed assuming he wasn't anything but a hunter wasn't fair. She'd wanted to be more than just a widow in a cabin, but it was hard to be anything else in an area like that. It had taken and given so much, it was strange to feel conflicted about being away from it.

“Not usually.” Arthur's voice pulled her back, Charlotte noting that he looked tired as he looked over her face. “Though it don't look like you're here for the tables.”

“Oh, no, I'd just be better off buying cards I'd never use,” she said with a soft chuckle, “I am staying up there, though.”

She inclined her head toward the upper part of the saloon, Arthur's expression shifting somewhat as he started to shift as if he'd been standing in her way.

“If you're lookin' to go to your room, don't let me—“

“No, no. Hardly,” she interrupted, raising her hands slightly as her words died on her tongue somewhat. A slow exhale escaped her as she shifted, holding her wrist. “I would say it's the last place I want to be right now, in all honesty. Let's just say our evenings haven't gone quite to plan.”

“I'm...sorry to hear that,” Arthur muttered, relaxing some as he looked over her face again. In the moment, she could see he looked run down, too. It wasn't quite the same as she'd notice when he'd visit—travel weary, but it looked similar. For a few moments, she almost wanted to reach up to touch his face, to ease some of the tension there but shook the thought away as she fought back a frown at the appearance of it.

“Well, if you're not headin' up there, did you wanna walk? Noticed it looked like you was doin' that anyway.”

Charlotte blinked a moment, her eyebrows raised at the offer. She was usually the one inviting him to stay, to do things—he seemed to enjoy her company. At least, a part of her _hoped_ that was the case, but he usually needed some sort of word from her to feel comfortable staying. Granted, this was neutral ground, as he wasn't at _her_ home, but it was a bit of a surprise. An easy smile crossed her face.

“I'd love to,” she said with a nod, “I feel it would just add to the bitterness of tonight if I were to spend it in that room anyway. I'm leaving tomorrow, it's not much of a stay.”

Charlotte accepted his arm as he offered it, keeping some distance between her own and his. Though, a part of her almost wanted to lean into him. Cal used to walk with her while they were courting, his hold was warm, sturdy, and grounding. A part of her had missed that when it had stopped, but it pulled longingly at her chest now to know it will never happen with him again. She was thinking about her dead husband while holding Arthur's arm. That wasn't fair, either.

“Somethin' botherin' you? Ain't our night, but ya seem quiet.”

“You know me well enough to tell when I'm quiet and when I'm not?”

“Well, _no_ —I just...”

Charlotte had turned her head as she asked her question, a light tone in her voice but apparently it was enough to make him backtrack as he seemed to pull his attention anywhere but on her. A small exhale escaped her, something close to a laugh as she placed a hand on his arm.

“I'm teasing,” she said lightly, dropping her hand, “I didn't mean to fluster you, Arthur. My apologies. However, you're right...quite sadly, may I add, but I guess...well, I guess I thought I'd be treated better tonight.”

“...Someone hurt you?”

The concern was touching, Charlotte fighting back a somewhat sad smile but quickly shook her head. “No, no—well, _yes_ , but not in the way you're thinking. I saw some family tonight.”

Arthur's head inclined back, a soft 'ah' escaping him in understanding as they continued to pass more people tucked into alleyways and walking through the darkness of the street. It seemed he had dealt with a similar pain, Charlotte watching his expression some as he kept his focus forward. It wasn't hard to see him, but in the passing light she could see he was a handsome man. It was something she had noticed before, it was hard not to acknowledge it sometimes, but in the moment it had her forcibly looking away. Her mind really was all over the place tonight, and she knew thinking back when she laid down for the night, she would feel guilty about it—as she always did.

“My cousin,” she started, the words almost slipping out as her focus was pulled back to the moment, “She was preforming tonight in the theater.”

“Your cousin is a performer?” he asked, much as he didn't need the confirmation but he still managed to sound somewhat surprised.

“Yes, she always has been. A great pianist, she could play classics I couldn't begin to grasp but...well, she was always more lively with something more jaunty and made up herself. My family...well, we were close growing up, she was like a sister to me and I guess she wasn't spared from their judgment just as I wasn't. They thought it...disagreeable that she'd live her life on stage, but once they saw her group's name surrounded by lights, the comments stopped...”

A part of her wished that had happened with her, too. Though, the life she chose wasn't glamorous, much as Cal had regarded it was a much romance as he could muster. Her cousin proved them wrong and got approval back, and Charlotte...well, she got disowned.

“Tonight, though...” she sighed, shaking her head, “She had written me, asked me to come see her in Saint Denis. She invited both Cal and I, so that was...well, she didn't know. Yet...she treated me like a stranger in a way. She embraced me like a sister and treated me like a fan. She barely had a reaction to news of my husband's death, didn't have time for _me_ , I came all the way out here and...”

She trailed off with a sigh, almost lowering her head as her voice dropped. “I've never been more insulted in my life.”

“Them performer types, they...” Arthur trailed off, Charlotte's gaze lifting to his face at the bitterness in his voice, “I don't know. I'm sorry.”

“I appreciate that, Arthur,” Charlotte returned, some mild humor to her voice. She caught the look he tossed her out of the corner of his eye, the touch of a smirk on his lips but let the conversation drop as they continued on in silence for a few more moments.

She wasn't sure where they were going, if there even was a destination in mind, but she almost didn't mind that. After what happened, it was nice to just be with someone—she hadn't realized how much she had just been craving some company since her cousin's letter arrived. A door closed and another opened. However, she kept those thoughts to herself. Charlotte knew what was happening—she wanted to lean into him, wanted to touch his face, mentally noting how handsome he was...it made her gut twist something unpleasant. Perhaps it was just her longing and disappointment about being left alone that night, and somehow she had found him again.

Charlotte couldn't tell if she felt something, and the current night wasn't good to her. It wasn't the time to contemplate all of that.

“The night looks like it's worn you down, too,” she commented, tilting her head, “It's not all cards, is it?”

Jumping from risky thoughts to a risky question, it wasn't great. Some anxiety pooled in her gut after the words left her, Arthur not answering for a moment but he had glanced toward her somewhat. Still, Charlotte watched his face, the tension there but also a sadness that touched his expression gently. Eventually, he let out a small sigh, shaking his head.

“No...well, was supposed to be a distraction so it didn't help any, but...it ain't nothin' to worry 'bout. You don't need that on top of everythin' that happened tonight.”

“Well, to be fair, Arthur, I had...dropped my family problems into your lap,” she pointed out, “You don't have to tell me anything but...you don't have to be scared if you want to. I'll listen. It's only fair.”

She was pushing and she knew it. Yet, it was odd. She treated and regarded him as a friend at this point, or at least someone she was particularly familiar with, and he knew a good handful about her but she knew next to nothing about him. Charlotte never pressed too much earlier, it wasn't appropriate, but she had started opening up and Arthur...well, sometimes it felt like he wanted to open a door but always ended up shutting it very quickly after. He was a very private man, and she could respect that. Still, a part of her did want to know him more. She kept seeing him, they kept talking, and well...

Arthur turned to glance toward her, Charlotte's gaze meeting his own for a few moments. There was a frown settling into his features, his eyebrows pulled together as he seemed to regard her for a moment. He exhaled softly, turning his head to glance toward where they were walking. The pace had slowed some, Charlotte still holding onto his arm, the warmth from under his jacket against her palm.

“Ran into someone from my past, too, I guess...” he started, sounding like he was struggling over the words, “Ain't so much _ran into_ , I guess, but...whole thing's just left me conflicted.”

Charlotte watched him a moment as she nodded quietly, more shift in his expression as he seemed distant for a moment. She dropped her gaze, watching her footing alongside his as they walked down the street. It was strangely silent for how Saint Denis was, the sound of hooves against cobblestone and quiet voices echoing off the buildings. Beautiful and eerie at the same time. Though, Arthur's voice pulled her attention from that as he continued with a sigh.

“I was almost married once,” he admitted, “I ain't...gonna get into the details of why I ain't now, but...she wrote me recently. Twice. I came to her aid both times, and...well, end up feelin' more foolish than I start each time. Guess part'a me just...hopes. I feel foolish for it. Though, I don't know...feels like I'm holdin' onto somethin' that ain't there no more for her?”

“Do you still love her?” _Oh,_ _ **stop asking questions**_ _, Charlotte Balfour._

“Part of me still does—really does,” he muttered, shaking his head as she pushed aside the surprise at the almost immediate answer, “It's just...complicated, I guess. Ain't fair to ask her, but...there's a lotta questions.”

“That really does sound like a terrible situation to be in,” Charlotte replied, touching a hand to his arm almost absentmindedly before she dropped it again, “Though, I don't feel it foolish to hope. It...it's not the same, but...I just hope sometimes by some _divine miracle_ that Cal would just walk back into the house sometimes. That or I'd be given a chance to save him. I guess...I guess it's both grief in a way?”

“You still really miss him?”

“Everyday.”

That was the plain truth. Everything she did, she thought of him. His presence and memory around the house hadn't faded, and a part of her almost clung to it. She visited his grave every day, told him things and replaced the flowers. Her bed was always cold, she knew she hadn't slept for days after his passing, just laying there as she stared at the empty side. That's likely what put such guilt and grief in her about wanting to be close to Arthur—her thoughts not always platonic. Hearing this? A part of her hurt—for him but also for what he admitted. She told him it wasn't foolish to hope, but a part of her felt it. That if she touched his face, he'd lean into it. If she leaned into him, he wouldn't shy away. That he was secretly watching her face as they walked.

Admitting that to herself, it made her feel ill from guilt. About Cal—the man she swore she would only ever have eyes for, and for Arthur in thinking these things while he was suffering the grief of a marriage that didn't come to be. She almost pulled her arm from his, put that distance back, but she stayed as that silence lingered.

“I didn't mean to press such heavy topics,” she said, trying not to note how her words sounded like she was struggling to get them out, “What a terrible day.”

“I agree,” Arthur muttered, glancing down at her, “But...I'm sorry, too. This ain't what I was hopin' to talk about when I asked you to walk with me.”

“I pried,” she said with a soft chuckle, “I think...I think I've walked enough. I'm just exhausted from today.”

“I could walk you back, if you want.”

Charlotte paused, wondering if it would be better if she took the road back alone. She almost didn't trust herself, but at the same time...well, she figured maybe it didn't have to end like this. With a small nod, she turned to head back the way she came as she kept her hold.

“Thank you, though...did anything _good_ happen today that we can talk about? I'll return the favor if you do.”

Anything to ward off the swarm of thoughts that was likely waiting for her once he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted on Tumblr by an anon for "I'm not leaving." I had thought to keep this separate but started using some of my ideas for this series so here we are.

If there was one thing Charlotte Balfour had come to know about Arthur Morgan, it was that he was someone she really didn’t know.

She hadn't seen it at first—he had more knowledge in what he was doing than her at the time, following after his guidance left her not really knowing how deep all of it sat with him. There was a lot that she didn't know about Arthur, as it turned out. Charlotte had many terrible nights, and their last meeting was only one in a string of many. Cal's death, sitting with him the day after as his injuries took him, the number of strangers turning up at her home with ill intention, nearly starving, and then there was the night she had her eyes opened to who Arthur really was. There was the man who cared—the man who listened to her talk about her grief, stories of her family, brought her food and taught her how to catch it herself. However, there was also the man who killed two men in her home.

He'd been doing it to protect her, she guessed. It wasn't hard to see, at least in hindsight. She had Cal's rifle, two nasty looking men crowding her door. _Where're ya from, miss? Who ya hidin in here?_ Yet, she'd only ever shot the odd rabbit and empty bottles. She had done the latter to feel safer in her own home, to know she had a gun and knew how to use it, and yet when it came down to it...she was hesitating. Looking back, she could almost hear her mother. _You're a society woman, Charlotte, and Calvin is not a mountain man. Perhaps it's time you both learn where you stand._ She'd wanted to talk them down, told them that she had nothing. She was just a widow, that they needed to leave. They kept talking about some gang in the mountain, said she'd been hiding one of them in her home. That they'd seen him come and go. They had grappled to pull that gun from her arms, throwing her around her own home, breaking chairs, kicking in doors. She had been sure that was the end of her. Charlotte had feared bears, cougars, to be left to such a fate as Cal had, and yet in that moment all she saw was two men and their weapons.

It had happened so quick, one had stepped forward and there was a loud noise. Charlotte had flinched as if he had shot her, and yet the man's head snapped to the side with a bloody spray. The remaining man whirled around, charging for the front door to fire out of it a couple times. Then he was gone, a body on her floor. Charlotte had scrambled for Cal's gun, abandoned on the floor where they had tossed it, scurrying under the table and through broken wood to grab it. She rose up, aiming toward the door as a familiar figure stumbled in, pistol out. Admittedly, at seeing Arthur's face, the relief she had felt in that moment had her dropping the weapon and stepping forward to step into his chest. It was quick but somewhat lingering, her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket as she breathed heavily to keep the sobs back. Arthur had gripped her then, too, hesitant but didn't shove her away.

She had started talking almost non-stop at that point, building panic and emotion in her voice as she stepped back to explain what happened. Her house was a mess, things knocked off shelves, a chair broken and splintered on the floor, one of the doors chipped and broken at the knob. Arthur had removed the bodies for her as she tried to gather what had survived up from the floor, though when he had returned, Charlotte had remembered what was said to her. She told him about them talking about a gang up in the mountains— _and she should have known._ Arthur was the only person who visited consistently, if the only person to actually see her for some months. His expression had shifted and Charlotte knew in that moment, but didn't want to admit it to herself. That his accuracy with a gun wasn't from hunting, that him disappearing and the chaos that often followed in Annesburg and surrounding areas weren't unrelated.

He'd told her everything, though. Everything her mind had been piecing together, looking her dead in the eye while he did so. It was the most he'd looked in her face, there was no secretive smiles or eye contact dropped to rub at the back of his neck. He was an outlaw, a dangerous one at that—so he said. Charlotte kept thinking back to those men, sneering that she was hiding some outlaw, that they saw him coming and going. Followed him. He led them right to her.

“ _I...”_ she had said around a gasp, _“I think you should leave.”_

“ _I'm thinkin' that, too.”_

She hadn't seen him in almost a month—she had needed those weeks. To clean up her home, to think. Charlotte had cursed herself for falling in so deep—she had developed feelings for him, hadn't she? They'd been around each other for a good while, a couple months, Charlotte wanting him around for his company and dreading when he'd leave again. He _always_ left. It wasn't love, but it was something significant. She _loved_ Cal, but she had found herself wanting to make room for a man who may not even want her that way. Someone who she _shouldn't_ want. At the realization, she'd fallen back into a sitting position on the floor of her bedroom, giving up on trying to fix the door, and wept. Charlotte felt like she was betraying Cal at letting those thoughts in, giving them a space. When Arthur was around, he made her happy, and she looked forward to seeing him again when he'd leave, but she let him go for as long as he needed, as long as he wanted. She knew Cal would want whatever made her happy, but she couldn't shake the feeling.

The dreams made sense now—the sudden shift from Cal to Arthur, the shame upon waking but she knew those thoughts continued into the day. Her memories of Cal were still hers, he was still him. The wedding day, wedding night, the days and nights that followed—they were him. Yet, her current life? The one where he was under a mound of dirt and she was left to deal with...outlaws and people with ill intent? She found herself wanting somebody else—she didn't want somebody else, she wanted _Arthur._ She wanted the days where he'd visit—not out of obligation, not really anymore. She wanted the quiet conversations on the porch, the walks, the horse riding where he'd point out wild horses to her with a light in his eyes that she couldn't help but want to follow. He taught her as much as he let her be herself, in her mind she never really felt just some...mere student with him. The lingering glances that she had brushed off as silly, the smiles. It made sense.

Yet...now, well, she wasn't sure if she had feelings for _the idea_ of the man she thought she knew or who he actually _was._

This life was hard. It was _so hard._ She had never experienced such loss, such pain. Yet, it was confusing with the moments of pure joy, contentment, and a want to let someone back into her heart. Life had such a way of twisting, and it made sense that it had one more for her once she came to another realization, one that started to form her stance on all of this. She left her home for a trip, she felt she knew enough and was a good enough rider now to make it, and headed up north near Strawberry. Far from home, from the memories there, and the recently bloodstained wood. She had wandered into town, gathering supplies for a trip into the woods that surrounded the scenic little town, when she saw him.

He didn't see her, thankfully, but she saw him. Saw his horse, a bigger beast than her own yet gentler than her rider she could presume now, a few pelts resting on her back as Arthur went inside the hotel. Charlotte had continued on, caught a rabbit and a deer to sell—the ones she still felt bravest to hunt. She had no hopes of taking them back home, but selling them would get her some money and would pay in the long run. She needed what she could get. The butcher had set about taking the skins and meat from her, Charlotte fighting the urge but eventually gave in to glance up the way toward the hotel. The familiar horse was still outside, hides on her back, and she exhaled a small sigh. Relief, anxiety, she wasn't sure. Charlotte took the money almost absentmindedly, pausing a few moments as she debated on just getting on her horse and leaving or leading her up toward the hotel and facing this head on.

She knew he wasn't going to come back on his own, not with how she had sounded and what she said. This was blind chance. She _had_ to.

Charlotte grabbed her horses reins and walked her up to the hotel, her stomach twisting and her heart beating hard. Giving his description to the front desk was hard, the anxiety almost making her want to turn back, but when it was confirmed that a man sounding like him was staying there, she went up. It wasn't an overly long climb up the stairs, but she felt like it dragged on forever. She wasn't sure what to say, where to start. All she knew was the room and that she needed to knock. Charlotte's limbs felt heavy, almost as if it took extra weight to lift her hand to knock. Yet, she did, and she knew it was too late to turn back unless she turned right then to run away. However, she wasn't going to. It had been weeks and this sat on her mind so heavily, she needed something so she could stop wondering. So she could move on, in either direction she could see this going.

There was some shuffling behind the door after a few moments, heavy boots against the floor as Charlotte dropped her gaze a moment, she could see the shadow moving from behind the door through the crack before she was glancing back up as the door opened a bit. The confusion that sat in Arthur's expression was understandable, considering how quiet this establishment was, though at recognizing her, the expression only deepened.

“Miss Balfour,” he greeted, her stomach dropping a tiny bit. He was back to that. “What're you doin' here?”

“I...wanted to try hunting up here, and I saw you in town earlier. Though, I'm safe to assume you didn't see me. In all honesty, I had debated seeing you beyond that at all, but...I knew that I would be waiting a terribly long time for you to come back around, if you ever did, so we could talk.”

“Talk?” he asked, shifting the door open a little more so she could see him a little more clearly, “I...all respect, miss, I'm havin' a hard time thinkin' of what there'd be to talk about. Think I got yer meanin' very clear.”

“All due respect, you _murdered two men_ in my home who's blood I can't get out of the wood and I feel it's a reasonable request to talk about what happened when I'm not...absolutely panicked and afraid after surviving that.”

Charlotte was all too aware of how sharp her tone was, how bold this whole situation was on her part, but she knew she needed to have something done about it. Despite the tightness in her chest that had her almost breaking down outside his room's door, she found her head dropping as she shook her head lightly.

“I also...” she continued, swallowing, “I also know why you did it. In many ways, I thought I was prepared for the hardships this life had in store for me. I was raised as a woman of the city and doing this, I never thought I would be so alone. This world hasn't been kind to me, and I know I should have expected in some form that the struggles wouldn't...leave because I...was doing better than I was. Those men, they were much more...forceful and determined than what I was used to and I knew I should have pulled the trigger but...I lacked the bravery. I don't know or want to think about what would have happened to me if you hadn't shown up when you did, but...you saved my life. I can't...I can't use that to excuse the fact that you've done bad things, but it's something I need to acknowledge.”

“...I ain't a good man, Charlotte,” he returned, sounding like it was something he had been asserting all his life. “I weren't lyin' when I told ya that you don't know me all that well.”

“I'm aware,” she stated, taking in another breath, “However...I'm aware of how I am, too. I...I lost my poor husband to this life he had held onto so romantically, leaving me to deal with the reality of it. I don't blame him for it, but...I nearly starved to death and you could have walked away, you almost did, but you helped me. I let you into my home more times than I can count, you never took anything from me, even when I opened that to you, never... _did_ anything to me and...I know there are people out there who would have done worse if they had been in your situation. You didn't treat me like some...poor window who deserved to be robbed or murdered...”

Arthur moved a hand up to rub at his eyes, pinching there lightly as he breathed slowly out through his nose. Charlotte watched him carefully, feeling that tension in her chest easing some as the words came out, said out loud instead of circling in her head. However, she honestly wasn't sure how Arthur would react to all of this. She wasn't sure how _she_ should react to this. Though, she wasn't expecting him to hold the door open to his room, beckoning lightly with his free arm.

“Ain't nobody here, but I don't want to talk 'bout this in a hallway.”

Charlotte hesitated, looking over his face a moment. Arthur looked stern, but there was a tiredness to his gaze, something was getting through. Yet, a part of her didn't quite want to lose that half privacy, she had a way out that wouldn't be through a closed door likely behind— _she was afraid of him._ At least, in some way. Seeing him do what he did, how could she not be? He had never harmed her intentionally, had treated her with respect and helped her in a way that made her feel in control of her own life. Did all of this erase that? No, she knew that it didn't.

“Fine,” she muttered, almost a whisper, before she was walking forward into the room. Charlotte knew she had much more to say, and she knew this was probably her only chance to make her meaning perfectly clear. The room itself was cozy and small, the bed unmade and looked partly slept in, bandolier resting on top of the chest at the foot of the bed as Arthur's gun belt still rested around his hips. He was asleep, or about to be.

“What's the meanin' of you turnin' up like this?” he asked, blunt, “So far, I ain't so sure I understand.”

“I have come to a couple realizations since the last time you saw me,” she started, gripping the wrist of her left hand with her right, “I...I realized that you weren't the man I thought you were, and I have to be honest and say that I still don't know who that man really is, but...I also realized that you may be right, you may not be a good man, but you were good to me. So much better than anybody who had come up there after Cal's passing. I...I don't know what type of person you are anymore, and that whole ordeal scared me, but...I also know that I still miss you when you're gone and I know you had done that to protect me because...well, that situation was getting out of hand.”

Charlotte watched Arthur's reaction carefully, a part of her still very much conflicted on if she should have done this in the first place. A part of her wanted to leave, that there was nothing good to come to get involved with an outlaw that was running around the areas near her home—that she had been unknowingly involved in some way to a point where those men showed up at her home. Yet, that part of her that held affection toward him wanted her to cross the room and hold him, tell him that she forgave him, that she understood, but that was naive. Her and Cal had been _so_ naive and she...well, she had to be more than that, or she would die very quickly out there.

“I'm no man who should be missed,” Arthur remarked, “After I brought them men to yer home? They could've killed you and you're here... _why?_ ” 

“I...I saw life giving me a fair chance and I took it.”

“I'm not even gonna pretend I know what ya mean by that.”

“I don't rightly know, either,” she responded, worrying a lip between her teeth a moment. That was a lie. She knew. It was just getting it out.

“I think...I think the best choice here is leavin'.”

“I'm not leaving,” she stated, almost surprised by her own resolve, “At least...I can't, not until I...”

She paused, biting on the inside of her lip. There was a better time for this, no doubt, but with recent developments she saw no other opportunity.

“I need you to know that...over the last while, I've developed feelings for you. I don't...rightly know what they are exactly, and perhaps that is what has made this so difficult to accept. I had hoped that I would be able to find a time to tell you that wasn't...wasn't this. So, I lied, I know why I'm here and it's that.”

Charlotte exhaled slowly, a little shaky as she lowered her gaze. Cal had only been the other man she'd admitted her feelings to, and it had been such a certain and tender thing back then. Her bravery had been rewarded with a soft kiss and reassurances, yet this? She had no idea. The way things were happening, she was almost expecting to be kicked out and she would accept that. Move on. She knew it would be the best but a part of her also just wanted to be taken into his arms. She had wanted that for longer than she wanted to admit. 

“...I had a feelin',” he started after a silence, leaning against a drawer as he crossed his arms, head tilted downward. If he'd been wearing his hat, she likely wouldn't have been able to really see the expression on his face, much she couldn't read a lot from it. “I been lyin' to you for so long and I...It ain't fair to keep doin' so, I...I feel somethin', too, but I'm not sure what it is. Yet...after everythin', the idea that you...”

“I'm conflicted, I can't lie about that but...” she let out a small sigh, bowing her head, “I've been so...guilt-ridden once these thoughts started to enter my head. That I wished I could hold you, make you stay...kiss you, and there is a part of me that still wants that now. Yet, I think that in wanting that, I'm betraying Cal in some way. He was the most understanding man I knew and I know he'd understand this, too, and I know a part of me will never stop loving him but I know a part of me can still make room for someone but...I never knew if you wanted that to be you, Arthur.”

“Charlotte...” he started, taking in her expression before sighing lightly. She did the same before deciding to continue on, bowing her head slightly.

“I know what you were doing in that situation. You had the bravery I lacked and you saved my life. I repeat that because you have done so more than once, now. I...the memory still haunts me, but I know I can understand and...eventually forgive that, but it's everything else that I...I don't know right now. You have never done anything to hurt me up to this point.”

“You know what I am,” Arthur stated, “Are you still not leavin'?”

That was a hard question—Charlotte knew what was underlying that and she could feel her throat tightening as she knew this was the crossroads she was waiting for. This life...it wasn't good to her, and she didn't know his life too well, but from what he had spoke of from time to time, she knew it wasn't good to him either. They were good to each other and yet...this was so much. However, there was a decision to be made, and she had approached this with the intention of making one. Rationally, she knew she shouldn't fall in with an outlaw, especially when there were things still currently happening, but...she wanted him, too. It...it made no sense and she hated that it didn't. This was more than just...accepting a flaw, and yet...

“...No,” she replied, her voice quiet, “I want and miss you, and I know it makes no sense that I do after everything, and maybe it's naive of me to think that perhaps there is a way for this to work in our favor but...everything you did with and for me up until that point, was it genuine?”

“Yeah,” he stated, “They were. You're...you're strong, Charlotte, and I know a part of me wasn't wantin' to put myself into what mess you had found yourself in but...I stayed, even when I was goin' all the time.”

Charlotte let that linger in her head, shifting on her feet somewhat as she debated on her next step to this. She took a breath in, lowering her gaze again as she brushed a bit of hair behind her ear before she nodded lightly. This could be a mistake, and she knew it. Yet, finally, she found herself moving forward before pausing a couple steps from him as she lifted her head, giving him a nod. 

“Then there's more to you than I know,” she replied, “Maybe than you know.”

“I doubt it, but maybe.”

“A truly horrible person wouldn't have done all that you have for me, and that's not me saying that you're excused from everything you have done but...all you needed to do was show me how to hunt and shoot, after that you could have left and I would have been fine with that. Instead, you kept coming back and I found myself struggling to see you leave more and more each time. I know I can't pull you from this but...”

Charlotte, focused on trying to word herself correctly, hadn't noticed that he'd shifted until she felt him touch her forehead gently, clearing some of the strands of hair that had fallen out of place throughout the whole thing. She wasn't expecting that, almost flinched at the suddenness, but remained where she was. There had been a few touches here and there, an arm slung over a shoulder, a hand on his jacket, steadying hands on her shoulders when he'd check her aim, but she wasn't sure what to make of this. Considering there was still some hesitancy to his movements, she wondered if he did too. Though, the feeling of that hand coming down to cup her cheek made his intention clear enough in her mind. His hand was large, and warm, but rough. She knew she shouldn't, but she found herself leaning into the touch with a small sigh. That conflict with still twisting in her gut, but in the moment she found herself braving a touch to his face, running her fingers along his jaw before she placed the hand there.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low as Charlotte looked over his face. For a moment, she wasn't sure if he was really asking her or himself. Could be both. She took in another breath, looking him over a moment. There was always a part of her that would feel...some sort of way toward what she had learned about him, but even through her own thinking about what happened and explaining it all to him, she was beginning to understand something a little beyond that. In time, she hoped that perhaps he would help her understand more. She _needed_ him to, if they were...well, if things were going to improve between them.

Should she kiss him in the moment, though? Reason told her that it likely wasn't a wise choice, but she found herself exhaling a breath and nodding her head. She knew she would go over this moment over in her head later, probably on the journey back home, but in the moment she wanted nothing more. Her hand moved up into the hair at the back of his neck as Arthur pressed his mouth against hers, Charlotte letting out a slow breath she'd been holding as she pressed back into the kiss. She had always been a bit of a romantic, imagined kisses always being a little passionate, but this felt uncertain moving towards something more natural. Arthur's stubble scratched gently at her skin, and he tasted a bit like cigarettes. She could smell it on him sometimes, during the points where she was close enough to his clothing. He was broad, too, one hand moving up into his hair as the other rested on the curve between his shoulder and neck. She could feel the warmth of his hand against the small of her back, the other at the back of her head. He wanted her back. She had almost convinced herself that it wouldn't happen, that it wasn't. She had almost expected at her confession to be told the same she had been when he'd talked with her at the door, that he was a bad man, not worthy of being missed.

As much as she grappled with the fact that she had to change the way she thought about him, about what he does, the realization was rather sad. The whole situation was sad, as strange as it was to have that thought in the current moment. Charlotte broke away from the kiss once she started to feel her lungs wanting more air, keeping herself close as she pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes a moment. She could feel his thumb run across her jaw as she dropped both her hands down to his shoulders.

It was a strange first kiss, she had to admit. A part of her was excited, relieved, but conflicted. She knew she'd be thinking it all over and then some once she was alone, possibly before that, but in the moment she just let out another small sigh through her nose.

“Please don't kiss me like that and never come see me again, I didn't think I could take doing this but I don't think I could take that...”

The admission was hard, it made her feel some sort of way deep in her gut. Hopeful, confused, but she meant it. She really did. She opened her eyes again as Arthur shifted, pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her more. It wasn't an answer—more reassurance than promise, but she would take it.

Everything was difficult as it was, but she couldn't deny the racing of her heart and the ease in her at being this close to him finally. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to act, but it was easy to lean into him as she wrapped her arms around him.


End file.
